Movers and Fakers (6 page)

Skye pulled her Isadora Duncan long white scarf up around her blond curls and held on to the boat’s railing. She had never
been more sure of her decision to ditch her dance obsession and turn her attention back to what really mattered. Taz was a
male version of herself, only with thick eyebrows and luscious brown-black hair—and Skye wasn’t afraid to admit she loved
herself.

“Look.” Taz pointed to the Theater of Dionysus glinting in the sunset, suspended above the forest on the south side of the
lake. “It’s the dance cube!”

Skye grimaced. “I’m so over that place. Mimi hates me. No matter how hard I work, my moves are never good enough.” Skye felt
the familiar lump in her throat begin to form and swallowed hard, gritting her teeth through her still-raw emotions, hoping
the wind in her face would dry the tears that persisted in welling up annoyingly in her eyes every time she thought about
her disastrous comeback-turned-takedown.

“Forget Mimi!” Taz yelled over his shoulder. “Life’s too short to do anything that isn’t fun! This’ll take your mind off things.”
His ice blue eyes twinkling mischievously, he flipped a lever that sent the
Ark
careening even faster through the water. “Wooo! Now we’re rolling!”

“Mimi who?” Skye joked, but the question was sucked away by the gale-force wind, and she wasn’t sure Taz heard her. Not that
it mattered—she didn’t want to talk about Mimi anymore. They were on a joyride, not an
oy
-ride.

As the boat swerved violently to the right, she was relieved to see that there were life preservers neatly tied to every few
feet of the yacht’s railing, just in case there was a disaster of
Titanic
proportions.

“I’ll be right back!” she called out to him. Despite how much fun she was having and how good Taz was at taking her mind off
things, she needed to go below for a bit or he would know exactly what she’d had for breakfast.

“Can you get me a Coke from the fridge downstairs?”

“One Coke coming up!” Skye salivated at the thought of high-fructose corn syrup, which was banned from the Academy cafeteria.
A few slugs of liquid poison (her mother’s term—Coke was also banned for all dancers at Body Alive) might make her forget
all about Mimi.

She headed down a narrow stairway to the berth of the yacht and stepped into a hexagonal room decorated in a neo-nautical
style. There was a kitchen off to one side, a sleeping area with three ovular bunk beds, and a large sitting area with two
white leather couches flanking an anchor-shaped chrome coffee table.

“Must be nice,” Skye said to herself, gawking at the gold wall sconces shaped like pieces of coral. She walked toward the
floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the other side of the room to check out the waves they were leaving in their wake. Westchester
was plenty posh, but nobody she knew back home owned a yacht like this.

“Not always,” someone said.

Skye jumped, nearly toppling a futuristic pelican-shaped vase off a side table. “Who’s there?” she asked the dim room.

She watched as a slender, sinewy arm reached up from one of the couches and flipped on a lamp. A second later, the head and
shoulders of Sydney Brazille popped up. He’d been laying on the couch in the dark. Alone.

Weird.

“What are you doing here?” Skye hid her gritted teeth with a smile, already annoyed at the castaway for tagging along on her
private date. She didn’t have any classes with Sydney and he wasn’t in the tabloids as much as his brothers, so she’d barely
laid eyes on him before now. As she walked toward him, she was surprised by how cute he was. He wore his hair longer and tousled,
and his dishwater-gray Modest Mouse T-shirt was rumpled and ripped a little at the collar, but his angular bone structure,
windblown lips, and deep-set eyes that turned down at the corners made him look brooding and tragic.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” He ran his hand awkwardly through his hair and raised his eyebrows at Skye.

“Taz invited me. He’s upstairs, driving the boat.” As if on cue, the yacht lurched to the left. Skye decided she’d better
sit on the couch rather than risk breaking a lamp.

“This is where I come to write sometimes, when I need to be alone,” Syd said, shutting a leather-bound notebook he’d been
holding. “I thought I could get through Taz’s joyride without him noticing I was down here. I’ve done it before.” He smiled
slyly, revealing a slight gap between his two front teeth.

Undeniably hawt!
Skye made a mental note to tell the Jackie O’s about the underappreciated charms of the most brooding of all the Brazille
Boys later that night. She would never have guessed that his reputation as the shy, sensitive, soulful one wasn’t pure PR
hype.

“Sorry I interrupted you,” said Skye. “I know how it feels to need to write stuff down. Sometimes it makes it feel more . . .
real.” She thought of her HAD slipper—a lot of good it had done her lately.

“You’re really talented, you know,” Syd said, leveling his eyes on her. It felt like he was peering into her soul.

Skye blushed as a nervous giggle escaped her lips.
How would he know?

“I’ve seen you practicing in the dance cube,” he went on. “After you hurt your ankle, when you had to catch up with the other
dancers, I watched you practicing alone before dinner. You’re awesome. You have so much soul. And heart, too.” He smiled again,
and Skye got another peek at the gap. “When I saw you dancing, it was like I could hear how the music sounded just from watching
you.”

Now she was the one who ran an awkward hand through her blond wavelets, in an attempt to cover up her bright red ears. What
was she doing here? Who was this boy who watched her practice? How had she not noticed him before now?

“That’s, like, the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me… since I got here, at least.” She paused, her voice wavering slightly.
“Too bad Mimi doesn’t agree with you.”

“She will,” Syd said, locking his moss-green eyes with her turquoise blue ones. “You’re too talented for her not to catch
on soon.”

Skye sat back and blinked at him, startled by how certain he sounded. “I thought so once, but I’m not sure now.” Skye wasn’t
used to being so honest with someone she’d just met, but it felt good to drop her guard and let herself be vulnerable for
a change. “I’m thinking of taking it down a notch. Maybe life’s too short and I should just concentrate on having fun.”
Like your brother says
.

“You sound like Taz,” Syd replied, reading her mind. Skye blushed a deeper shade of red. “Don’t let my brother and all his
fun
derail your ambition. He’s never worked hard at anything. You’re better than that.”

Am I?

“We’re docking in a minute!” Taz yelled merrily from up on deck. “I beat my record by thirty seconds!”

Syd put his finger to his lips. “I don’t want Taz knowing I hang out down here,” he whispered.

Syd had responded so differently to Skye’s frustrations than his brother had. He really listened to her, and not just with
his ears but with his heart. Like a friend and confidant. Skye had never known a guy who actually paid attention to her problems.

“Thanks for the advice. I didn’t realize how much I needed it,” Skye said truthfully. Just as she was starting to rethink
her new plan to put fun before dancing, her aPod beeped.

SHIRA:
ASSEMBLY IN FIVE MINUTES.
ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY. SOMEONE WILL BE GOING HOME.

Ohmuhgud!

Did Shira know where she was? That she had snuck onto the
Joan of Ark
with not one but
two
of her sons? Skye leapt up and spun around the room, her eyes scanning the dark mountains through the windows of the boat.
Anyone
could be watching, she realized with a shiver.

She nodded a quick good-bye to Syd, mumbling, “See you around, hopefully,” as she backed away from the windows.

“Hope so.” He grinned, oblivious to the deafening samba drum that had begun to beat in her temples.

Skye forced her trembling legs to carry her up the stairs of the yacht and gasped a cleansing lungful of air when she reached
the deck. Taz had docked the
Ark
and was tying up the boat on a short wooden pier. In the distance, through a stand of Joshua trees, Skye could make out a
few swishing metallic miniskirts as the Alphas rushed toward the Pavilion.

“Hey,” he said. “You disappeared.”

“Sorry,” she breathed, already forgetting about Syd. “Thanks for the ride.” Looking at his confident, open smile, she wondered
what had kept her so long.

“Anytime.” He winked. He definitely knew how cute he was.

“Your mom just called an assembly. I’ve gotta go,” she said. Without waiting for Taz to answer, she turned around and sprinted
to catch up with the other girls.

Her heart raced as her thoughts swirled faster than the water in the lake. What was intended to be a carefree escape had just
confused her more than ever. Taz and Syd represented the two voices in her head: one that said to live her life for today
because tomorrow would take care of itself, and the other that said to stay on track and keep working because life’s passions
are important.

As she ran along the path, kicking up gravel behind her with every pounding step, the two brothers blurred together like the
trees flying past her. Which voice should she listen to? Which boy was the one for her?

Tragically, she might never get the chance to find out.

THE PAVILION

HALF-MOON THEATER

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21ST

8:59 P.M.

Allie’s thoughts spun and sputtered like a broken MacBook as ninety-nine nervous Alphas shuffled in and took their seats facing
the stage in the croissant-shaped room. Every surface was shiny white, like the blank page that was her future. She blinked
hard, holding back the tears that threatened to spill from her contact-lens-enhanced eyes. Someone was going home—that much
had been clear from Shira’s terrifying all-caps text message—and Allie was sure that someone would be her. She sat cross-legged
on an egg-shaped ergonomic chair, tucking her dirty feet (how badly she wanted clean feet and a clean conscience!) under her
silvery blue yoga pants. Soon, all she’d have to remember the Academy by were these pants, with the Alpha logo splashed across
the butt.

She wished she could Purell this whole mess away.

One by one, the other Jackie O’s arrived. As her friends sat down next to her—
friends for just a few more minutes
,
until they find out the truth!
—Allie’s stomach lurched. The Pavilion was bustling with rumors. Everywhere, girls sat in twos and threes speculating in hushed,
urgent voices about who was going home and why. It seemed everyone thought they were about to be on the business end of Shira’s
pointy-toed pumps, but the group paranoia wasn’t a comfort to Allie. She was pretty sure nobody but her was stupid enough
to get caught masquerading as a famous multiplatinum folk singer.

“Yo, eco-freako, you look even paler than usual. What gives?” Triple joked, plopping down in the egg chair next to Allie.
Triple was the only Jackie O who didn’t look worried about tonight’s agenda. Most of the Alphas looked sloppy, dressed somewhere
on the spectrum between pj’s and safari gear, but Triple wore her daytime school uniform. Her tawny skin glowed with carefully
applied bronzer and highlighting powder. She had clearly dressed for the occasion—almost as if she was excited to see one
of her bunk-mates go.

“Uh…” Allie opened her mouth and quickly shut it, staring imploringly out the window at a flock of purple-bellied finches
perched along the branches of a banyan tree. Just then, clad in a flimsy dress and trailing a long white scarf that Allie
was sure was not regulation Alphas, Skye collapsed gracefully into the seat on Allie’s other side.

“Say good-bye to Skye Hamilton, girls,” squeak-sighed Skye, waving one end of her scarf dramatically in a gesture of
bon voyage
. “I’m about to go down in flames.”

“Why
you
?” Triple looked like she was struggling to choke down a smile. Allie made a mental reminder not to trust Triple—she was faker
than a thirty-dollar Gucci clutch.

“I met Taz for a joyride around the lake on Shira’s boat. Obviously she must have found out, and voilà”—Skye snapped her pink-polished
fingers—“here we are.” She craned her neck toward the back of the room to see if any of the boys had bothered showing up.

“Dumb da-dumb dumb,” replied Triple, rolling her eyes.

“You’re safe, Skye—the cameras are still off. And that’s why
I’m
going home,” said Charlie, plopping down next to Skye with a defeated thud. “Not to mention the fake name I gave her. I’ll
text you from Hoboken.”

Just then, Allie saw Darwin slip in through a side door and find a seat toward the back of the room. Her brain did a backflip,
taking her to that night last week in the subterranean tunnels under the vertical farm, where they had shared an unbelievable
first kiss. Her insides fizz-melted like a root beer float.
Darwin’s cinnamon-flavored lips on mine! The song he wrote about me!

Allie thought her heart might explode as she locked eyes with him over the heads of fifty Alpha girls. The eye embrace lasted
a heart-pumping three-Mississippis, until Darwin finally broke away. A second later, Allie’s phone beeped.

Darwin:
If cameras are still down after this, meet me at the entrance to the tunnel. I miss you.

Allie couldn’t resist him any longer. She’d stayed away for two whole weeks, but on the slim chance she survived Shira’s assembly,
her Darwin moratorium would be officially put to rest. Darwin wanted it, Charlie wanted it, and Allie
desperately
wanted it. She just wished she could warn him about what might be coming. But how do you tell someone you’re not who they
think you are without sounding like a fake? Because there was nothing false about her feelings for Darwin.

Allie:
I’ll be there, if your mom doesn’t send me home tonight.